


reborn

by Love_andbalance



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Ben Solo Has Issues, Ben Solo is Not Nice, Breeding Kink, Casual Muder of Beloved Characters, Clone!Rey, Dark Dyad, Dark Reylo, Dark fic, Even When She Learns to Like It, F/M, Fix-It of Sorts, Major character death - Freeform, Manipulation, Pregnancy, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sith!Ben Solo, Violence and Cruelty Throughout, it's wrong, welcome to the dark side
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:02:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,051
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27840445
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Love_andbalance/pseuds/Love_andbalance
Summary: Based on a dark and perfect oneshot by RedRoseWhite-Ben Solo wasn't able to save Rey when she died on Exegol so he did the only thing he could do...He embraced the dark legacy of the Sith, becoming Darth Korbis and cloning a new Rey in Palptine's lab.Now, as the clone blinks her way into life, she will have to face her Maker and the legacy of the woman who came before...
Relationships: Kylo Ren/Rey, Rey/Ben Solo, Rey/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 18
Kudos: 110
Collections: Reylo Sandbox





	reborn

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Ricochet](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25639633) by [RedRoseWhite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRoseWhite/pseuds/RedRoseWhite). 
  * In response to a prompt by [RedRoseWhite](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedRoseWhite/pseuds/RedRoseWhite) in the [Reylo_Sandbox](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Reylo_Sandbox) collection. 



> My sincerest thanks to RedRoseWhite for making this possible by creating the story of Darth Korbis and letting me play in it ❤

Her Maker was the first thing that she remembered- the first sight that her newly formed eyes ever saw.

He would have said otherwise, if she had mentioned it- huffed out an angry breath and insisted that the memory of him standing before her as she lay wet and naked and shivering on the rough stone floor wasn’t her first memory at all. He would have reached his mind into hers, blunt and brutal, to show her the other memories that he wanted her to have- the ones that belonged to a girl named Rey.

The Maker- Ben Solo, Kylo Ren, Darth Korbis, each name another layer of darkness and fury and bitter bile that spilled out to coat his soul- had wanted the girl, more than he had wanted anything else in his life. Rey had shown him compassion, patience, and understanding. All of the myriad things that no one else had ever bothered to give.

He had loved her, deep and powerful, the kind of love that had the power to save lives and shift the destiny of a galaxy.

But she had died, her life fading away in front of his eyes and taking with it the last fragile thread that connected the Maker to his humanity. To stop the pain he had slaughtered his own soul and, unable to have the real Rey, he had made a replacement.

A clone.

So, the Maker had been the first thing that she had seen, the first memory that actually belonged to _her_ and not the woman he wanted her to be.

The Maker was terrifying- tall and broad with dark hair and pale skin and yellow eyes that glimmered with intelligence and cruelty. He was crude and impatient, taking her there on the floor with her face pressed into the cold stone floor before the yellow bacta liquid had finished drying on her still overly sensitive skin, pushing into her with rough and brutal strokes as tears of pain and confusion had spilled out onto her cheeks and her fingers had dug desperately into the ground until the tips had been mangled and bloody.

She was _Rey_ , he had explained with his voice commanding in her ear and his breath hot on her neck, and she was _his._ She understood then, in the earliest moments of her life as he curled himself over her to explain between vicious snaps of his hips who she was and what purpose she was meant to serve, that he hadn’t planned for her to know of her origins.

Darth Korbis had planned her rebirth and the seeding of her mind with Rey’s memories to make her exactly like Rey, to make her believe that she _was_ Rey.

In some ways her cloning had gone better than he had anticipated, and she had sensed his surprise when he realized that the bond he had shared with the old Rey, the _dead_ Rey, he also shared with her. It was genetic, carried in the DNA of her body, and thus her consciousness was available to him as soon as she had one, flowing seamlessly and without effort through the connection they shared.

But with that triumph came the unwelcome and unintended side effect that _she_ also had access to _his_ consciousness, including the memories that he had not wanted her to see. Among them Rey’s death and then the time he spent in the lab muttering darkly and watching his small batch of clones grow, the disposal of the failed clones like rotten refuse and the forcing of his memories into her newly formed mind.

From her first days of being, she knew what she was- a replacement.

And she knew what he was- a monster.

As the first weeks of her life passed, it became increasingly apparent to both of them that she was a poor replacement, and he was an increasingly furious monster.

He had no complaints about her body, something that he continued to use as he pleased whenever the mood struck him, but he was plainly disappointed in her personality.

Rey had been bright, vibrant, feral in her passions. The clone that Darth Korbis had made had been welcomed to the world with pain and fear and she had recoiled from life, withdrawing into herself and becoming timid and meek. She shrank from his touch, jumped at the slightest sound in their underground hideaway on Exegol, and cried whenever he suggested that she, too, should learn to use the Force as he did.

She was meant to be his dark queen and she was afraid to reach for the power that he promised her.

In desperation he forced himself into her mind as he had done to her body, pushing her as he had pushed the original Rey in one of the memories that he had given her. But unlike the real Rey, who had been incensed and pushed back, flinging open doors to his mind and taking the knowledge that she found there for herself, the clone Rey had wept and screamed and folded under the pressure as she begged him to stop before he destroyed her completely.

He dropped her, his expression merciless and unpitying as she lay at his feet- arms curled around herself and tears mingling with the snot that ran over her lips and off her chin.

“Why do you make me do this to you?” he asked, kicking her arm softly with his booted foot. “Fight back.”

She sobbed, shuffling out of his reach until he reached out a hand and used the Force to drag her back.

“Stop crying, Rey,” he said, sighing deeply and crouching over her so he could peer into her face. “You haven’t been yourself lately, not since you got sick, but these tears just aren’t like you. You’re better than this. How am I supposed to give you the galaxy, a crown, a _baby_ when you behave like one yourself?”

She sniffled, wiping her face with the back of one dirt streaked hand, and looked up at him suspiciously. She knew she wasn’t the real Rey, but he had given her enough of the other girl’s memories for her to be intimately familiar with the concepts of loneliness, of isolation, of abandonment.

The real Rey had wanted a family and _that_ was one thing that Darth Korbis had programmed into his new Rey with incredible precision.

“A baby?” she whispered tentatively, already able to picture the small hands, the soft curve of the cheeks, the silky dark curls. She _yearned_ and realized, with a bit of a jolt, that the Maker yearned just as much. This, the desire to have something that no one could take from them, was something that they shared.

He watched her carefully, eyes glittering dangerously in the darkness as he contemplated her and rolled her reaction around in his mind.

“Come here,” he instructed softly, sitting on one of the sparse pieces of furniture that had been left behind by Sidious’ Sith loyalists and waiting patiently as she crawled cautiously across the ground that separated them until she was kneeling at his feet.

She flinched when he raised his hand, but he brought it up to cup her cheek, his thumb sliding over her lips, cracked and bruised from the punishing force of his mouth on hers.

“Is that what you want? A baby?” he whispered, skimming his mind along the edges of hers as she shivered.

She nodded- wouldn’t have been able to hide it from him anyway, not when the ache of it was pounding in her mind so fiercely.

“I don’t know…” he hedged, tone suddenly doubtful. “You’re still sick, remember? Maybe we shouldn’t try until you’re feeling better.”

She narrowed her eyes and pushed up on her knees, crowding his space in a way that she had not ever dared to do before. “I’m _not_ sick,” she argued. “There’s nothing wrong with me.”

He hummed doubtfully, shaking his head in dismissal. “You can’t use the Force and you could before. You must still be sick.”

She paused at that, thinking it over as he waited in silence and watched her with clever eyes. “I can use the Force,” she said after long moments had ticked away. “I know how.”

He lifted the strands of her hair, twisting them softly with the Force until they danced softly around her head in challenge.

“Show me,” he urged and he left his mind open, easily accessible as she sought the knowledge that she knew she would find there, the information that would fill in the gaps that Rey’s memories had left her.

It was intoxicating, the swift rise of her connection to the Force, the way it invaded her mind and every cell of her body in a swelling cacophony of strength and awareness.

His eyes were wide as she took from him, plundering the corners of his consciousness for every scrap of what he could offer her until her thoughts were swimming and his head cracked roughly against the wall behind him.

She was breathing hard, skin tingling from the thrill as she pulled him forward, the Force bending easily to her whims until he was staring into her face with a small smirk of admiration.

“I can use the Force,” she repeated sternly. “I’m not sick and we can have a baby.”

He smiled at her then, the first time that she had seen him look at her with anything more than quiet condemnation. Ben Solo had looked at Rey that way, in the memories that weren’t hers, and an echo of quiet joy skimmed through her mind at the sight of it. Her fingers itched with the urge to touch his face, to let her touch wander over the soft curves of his upturned mouth and she wondered if the feelings were hers or simply her mind confusing what truly belonged to her with what she had been given.

“If you’re not sick anymore,” he agreed, bending forward and lifting her until she was settled snugly in his lap, legs spread around his thighs and the thin black gown she was wearing pushed up to drape over her waist and expose her bruises- the varying shades of purples and mottled browns that showed his attentions in the shapes of his fingers and his teeth.

She wasn’t foolish. She had known what he would have to do in order to create a child with her. More of the same violence, the same pain. But she endured such things from him already and if at the end he spilled his seed inside her instead of coating her skin or- worst of all- her mouth…at least then she would have something good to come from it and not just the bruises.

That determination wasn’t enough to stop her from shuddering as he slid one finger lazily over her and then pushed it into her with a small frown.

Her breath caught on the choking fear that threatened to swallow her as she waited for him to use her as he had done before, but he began to stroke her patiently as he watched her face in the dim blue light.

She shifted her hips, trying to shield herself from his gaze, and he hooked his fingers inside her, the pressure stopping her movements as much as the disapproval radiating off of him.

“I thought you wanted a baby,” he murmured, shifting forward until his lips grazed the curve of her ear. It was soft, the words and his touch, and she trembled as her body clenched involuntarily around his fingers.

“I do,” she whispered back, struggling to stay still when he brought up one hand to cup her breast and his thumb trailed small circles over her breast, lingering on her nipple as it hardened beneath his touch. Her breath left her, mouth parting in surprise as the feeling that blossomed within her turned out to be warm and alluring- nothing like the sharp pangs and bitter stings that she had become accustomed to.

He hummed, yellow eyes watching closely as he placed a hand on each of her knees, urging her softly to spread them wider. She stiffened, muscles locking her limbs in place and subtly resisting his demands even though she knew it was futile.

“You have to let me in, if you want a baby,” he said, chuckling low in his throat at her small huff of irritation and then waiting, unshakeable, until she reluctantly moved her legs and opened to him. “Just like that,” he praised, fingers searching the hidden shadows at the apex of her thighs until she relaxed under his strokes.

“What are you doing?” she asked finally, unable to keep the question inside any longer when he pressed a soft kiss to her temple.

“Giving you a baby,” he repeated, ignoring the obvious meaning behind her question as he skimmed his lips over her jaw and down her neck. “I want you to like it. You should enjoy it when it happens.”

“I don’t…” she began, her hands scrambling to grasp his shoulders and find a thread of sanity to hold onto as he tipped her into the unknown.

“Tell me that you want me,” he commanded roughly, nipping gently at her lip and then dipping his tongue inside her mouth until she was filled with the taste of him. “Tell me you want me to fill you up, plant a baby in you.”

“I…” she breathed. Did she want him? After everything he’d done? The image of a child with dark hair and soft rosy cheeks rose up in her mind and she sighed. “I want you.”

He groaned, pulling her closer and pushing his hips up into her so she could feel the hard length of him rubbing against her. She swallowed, resisting the urge to shift away from him, her first small spark of arousal blinking out of existence.

“I want you,” he told her, tangling his fingers in her hair and nuzzling his face into her shoulder. “I want to see you round and perfect with my child inside you.”

Now it was her turn to hum, the images that he sent into her mind tantalizing and tempting. He had imagined her that way often, the heavy curve of a belly, the soft weight of her breasts. His desire was potent, dark and selfish as he thought about what that would mean, another way of claiming her.

They would be bonded then, even more than they were now.

Wetness dripped over her thighs and she looked up at him, horrified at what her body had done, but he wasn’t looking at her face. His gaze was locked intently on the space between her legs and he swiped his fingers through her folds again, picking up a glistening dampness that left her startled and ashamed.

He brought it to his mouth, shamelessly sucking the shine off his fingers. “You like that,” he said, and another flush of embarrassment crept over her cheeks.

She wanted to deny it, but it seemed pointless to try when each whispered word and soft brush of his hand only increased the evidence of her own body’s traitorous response. Nothing between them could have prepared her for this, for the pleasure that danced across her nerves wherever he touched her, for the urge that she couldn’t resist to open her body to him and move closer to him instead of away.

She understood now, as he awakened these new feelings inside her, exactly what her life could be if she willingly gave him what he wanted.

He was capable of giving her so much in return.

She didn’t pull back or shy away from him when he reached between their bodies and freed the hard length of him, thick and straining and- every time before now- terrifying. Instead, she shifted toward him, instinct telling her that this time would be different, that she would find more of the novel delights he had given her and none of the usual hurts.

He lifted her, hands cupping the backs of her thighs, to guide her into place over him and she couldn’t stop the noise that left her mouth when she slid down onto him, her own slick wetness easing his entrance to nothing more than a pleasant fullness.

She wanted more and rocked her hips, taking him deeper and whimpering at the change in sensation, how different it felt when she gave in to his urges.

One of his hands traced a soothing path over the hills and valleys of her spine as the other gripped hard into her hip but even the bruising pressure had a different flavor to it now, one that she welcomed as she rose and fell and learned to seek her own satisfaction the way that he had always done. 

He grunted and moaned, told her with honey layered over the deep violence of his voice that she was pretty and perfect and that he couldn’t wait to give her all of his spend and leave it inside her and the implications of that tipped her screaming into a white hot void of ecstasy, her body clenching around him as he fulfilled his promise and coated her insides in steady pulses of warmth.

After that, he no longer had to force her to accept him, she sought him out greedily for her pleasure and his seed until they were both certain that new life had taken root in her womb.

She was the first to feel it, that small flicker of life in the Force, but he noticed it not long after, placing his hands on her stomach and reaching his mind inside her to examine the spark of being that rested there.

His frown was unexpected, hurtful. He wanted this child, so why did he look unsatisfied?

“We’ll have to be very careful now,” he said, stroking the skin beneath his hands protectively. “You remember your friends from the Resistance, the new government that they are creating?”

She thought back over the memories he had given her, flicked her mind through the nearly forgotten faces. “Yes,” she said quietly. “I remember.”

“I have to show you something,” he said, walking out of the room abruptly and leaving her standing in the center of it with her hands resting lightly over her stomach. She twisted her fingers anxiously in the fabric of her gown when he returned, pulling another person behind him.

It was a man, she realized, watching in horrified silence as Korbis shoved him down into his knees in front of her. His dark hair curled over his brow, covering some of the blood that dripped down from his forehead to cover his nose. His eyes widened when he saw her, hope and despair warring in his gaze as he looked at her face.

She knew him, recognized him from the memories that had been precious to Rey. She dug through the flickering images that were dormant in the mind, searching for him.

A Resistance pilot.

Poe.

“Rey?” he asked, before twisting around to face Korbis, his face contorting angrily. “What did you do to her? I saw her bo…”

Korbis silenced him with a rough wave of his hand, the Force a precise weapon that cut off his breath and stole his words.

“The new government is sending their pilots to snoop around, and you know they wouldn’t like _this_ ,” he said sagely, his hand coming to shield her womb. “The baby. What if the child grows up to be a threat to them, as I was?”

She placed her hands over his, stilling them as her fingers dug harshly into him. “You think they might harm the child?”

He shrugged. “Luke tried to harm me,” he reminded her. “And my mother never even _tried_ to protect me.”

“I will protect our child,” she said defensively, lips peeling back in a snarl.

“How can you? You have learned some small control over the Force, but have you embraced the dark? Taken your true power?” He shook his head, already knowing the answer. “You are too weak for us to even leave this place. I would marry you and have our child rule, give him his birthright, but you don’t have the strength.”

He reached for her face, pressed his thumb into the delicate hollow beneath her eye as he examined the hazel tint with disappointment.

She knocked him back with a thought, face pinched with fury. “No one will harm our child,” she repeated, the ground at her feet trembling as her fear and anger poured out of her in vicious waves.

“You know what you have to do,” he said calmly, tipping his head toward the ground where Poe continued to struggle. “If you seriously want to protect him, to give him the galaxy as he deserves, then you must give yourself to the dark side of the Force.”

“I’ll do anything,” she said fiercely, wrapping her arms over her stomach, cradling the delicate life inside.

“Then kill him,” Korbis told her harshly. “Don’t let him leave here and bring back forces that could hurt you or the baby. You know what they’d do to protect their precious government.”

Memories battered her mind, fitful images of the man that lay at her feet with pleading eyes. He had been Rey’s friend, someone that was decent and kind…

But Rey was gone, and the baby was here and there could be no comparison between the two lives whose futures rested on her shoulders.

Poe’s death was quick, a merciful end in a flare of red saber light before she handed it back to the Maker and watched him reattach it to his belt. He had promised her that someday she would have one of her own again and it had felt right in her hand.

If she had to, she would use her saber to slaughter them all, wash the galaxy in blood until no threat to her son remained.

Korbis kissed her, lips clinging to hers as his approval warmed the bond between them. “Good,” he praised. “You’re going to be a good mother, the best our son could have hoped for.”

She clung to him, adrift in the hatred and fear that he had awoken inside her as he held her quietly. He cupped her cheek, peering into her eyes with a smile. She didn’t have to look to know that hers would now be the same unnatural yellow that glinted at her in the darkness.

“Darth Irus,” he said, finally breaking the silence. “Every Sith takes a new name, a new identity. You won’t be Rey anymore. You’ll leave your name and everything else behind you.”

She’d never _had_ anything else, only him, but the idea that she could be someone, and not just the girl who was _not quite Rey,_ was very appealing.

_Irus_

She rolled the word around in her mind, whispered it silently to herself to let her tongue taste its essence.

She had been born with nothing but the memories of a dead woman and now she had a child and a name of her own. Even the Maker, who had brought her so much fear and pain in the beginning, was no longer a reason to be afraid. He had given her the child and the name, encouraged her to take up her own power.

She wasn’t sure when her feelings for him had shifted. Perhaps it had been the first time that he had smiled at her because since then, in many ways, her thoughts and Rey’s could no longer be separated in her mind.

Rey had loved Ben Solo and he had chosen to be with her in death. Now she, Irus, would have Darth Korbis. It was fitting in her mind- both of them not quite what they had once been but growing together from the same roots.

Whatever he was, however much of a monster, he was hers and she was his. She would go with him when he left this place, and they would take their child far from here to somewhere safe until they could lay the galaxy at his feet.

“It’s a good name,” she said.


End file.
